The chubby one cast a grateful glance at Mengdie. In the blink of an eye, the six of them were less than five hundred meters away. As their vision grew clearer, their steps became increasingly urgent and frantic...
Feng Yi!
Feng Yi?
Feng Yi...
Could that person really be Feng Yi, the one they once knew?
Unbelievable, incomprehensible—until they were less than a hundred meters away, close enough for even Zhang Xiaobo to clearly see, they were so shocked that their minds went completely blank for a moment.
Impossible. Feng Yi had indeed died a year ago; his breathing and pulse had ceased. If he were alive, there would be no reason for him to avoid them. Feng Yi's death had almost sparked another war—a war between John's Yate Federation and Zana's Republic. If Feng Yi were alive, he would never have stood by and watched as John acted recklessly.
Yet the scene before them gave everyone a profound sense of surreal disorientation, as if separated from reality by decades.
